


Whirl vs. Feelings

by goddity



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Whirl breaks another mech, emotional distress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:38:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddity/pseuds/goddity
Summary: The crew thinks Whirl doesn't have feelings. In a shocking turn of events, he does.





	

“I’m concerned about the way I’ve been feeling lately. Usually, I can just push my feelings down and ignore them.”

Whirl didn’t schedule sessions. Whirl didn’t comm Rung. Whirl came and went from Rung’s office as he saw fit, not caring who was in the middle of speaking when he entered. When Whirl was ready to talk, he was ready to talk, and there wasn’t much any mech on board _The Lost Light_ could do to stop him. 

Today, Rung had the good fortune of Whirl coming in during one of his breaks. Usually clients were more than happy to rush out when Whirl showed up, which wasn’t exactly good for Rung or his other patients, but helping Whirl was a difficult task. When he asked for help so infrequently, it took a certain amount of priority. Rung couldn’t exactly say that to anyone beyond another medical professional - or Ultra Magnus, after once being confronted when a client went to him out of fear that Whirl had intentions to do physical harm - but was always prepared to give Whirl a bit more attention than another mech. 

“You shouldn’t do that.” He responded gently, leaving his desk to remove the barrier between them and move to the seat he usually took when a client was around. Typically Whirl paced and wanted to talk more than he wanted a response, but Rung was more than willing to be that for him. More than anything, Rung wanted to help Whirl.

More than anything. 

“I know, but it’s how I have to get through the day, you know? If I didn’t ignore them, they’d just consume me and I could never get anything done. Every action is performed despite the depression or the anxiety or the fear or the rage. I can’t function if I actually sit down and confront this stuff.”

Whirl thoughtfully clacked his claws together, optic focused on something light years away, unconcerned with whatever might have been transpiring around him. 

“Why not confront them? What’s your concern with doing that?” Rung crossed his legs, sitting back in his seat and watching Whirl. Whirl usually bled from one statement to the next, especially when prompted. Whirl liked to talk, he’d always been chatty and oftentimes would talk even if he knew that no one had the intention of listening.

Whirl didn’t really care that virtually no one had the intention of listening.

“Well, let’s say I do. Now I have to try to fix everything. Not me, exactly, but the things around me have to change so that I can try to heal and grow and actually fix myself. So, if Cyclonus is a bit too firm when he talks to me and I get a little _unstable_ because I don’t much like the way he talks to me, I have to try to talk Cyclonus into changing his behaviors so that I can improve myself and we both know that he’s not going to do that.”

It wasn’t just Cyclonus. It was Cyclonus for being so disagreeable and Magnus for thinking he was _always_ up to something and Swerve for thinking he didn’t know his limits and Tailgate for thinking that there was still good in him and Skids for interrupting too often and Rodimus for wanting to weaponize him and-

“So you feel other people bar the way for your improvement.”

Well wasn’t _that_ and understatement. 

Whirl did something a little unusual.

Whirl took the seat opposite Rung, rhythmically clacking his claws together as he thought.

“I think I would be much, much happier if I could just be left alone, doc. Sometimes, I just hear other mechs talking and that’s all it takes to rattle me. Or they just keep talking, and I get closer and closer to snapping, so I do the only thing I can safely do.”

“You shut down.” Rung’s voice was as soft and compassionate as usual. He was too understanding, too forgiving, too… too _good_ all things considered. The company he kept should have destroyed him, should have corrupted him, drained every last redeemable quality from him, turned into something as awful and ugly as the rest of them.

But they didn’t.

Rung was good. Better than most of them deserved, honestly. 

“See, the issue is here is that I don’t _really_ want to be alone, because if I’m left alone I start drifting a bit and… _feeling,_ and if I start feeling, I’m never feeling good things or thinking good thoughts, so people are a good distraction and keep the feelings away.

“Sometimes, I feel that way even with people around. I practically offline if I’m not the center of attention, I’ll just _stop_ existing if I’m not being talked to. I-I’d rather have the negative attention than none.” Whirl increased the speed at which he clicked his claws, finding the sound drowned out the more negative thoughts that were seeping into this processor. “I mean, look at _you_ , Eyebrows. You fade into the background like a light on a dimmer switch, I’d have killed myself by now if I went so easily ignored.”

The doctor appeared a little taken aback at his choice of confession.

It was no real secret that Whirl had been battling suicidal thoughts for centuries, and Rung had personally complimented him for his resilience and his ability to go on after how roughly life had repeatedly beat him down. While he was, at times, bit more melodramatic than most mechs, Whirl was disturbingly genuine. It seemed that being socially ignored made it easy to speak his mind.

“I’m happy you’re here, Whirl.” Rung said with the softest smile he could manage. Whirl had told him once, explicitly, that he hated Rung’s smile. At first it had been a bit wounding, but it was a matter of authenticity. Whirl thought Rung faked his concern, faked the kindness. 

So Rung only strived to do better. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Whirl sputtered a little, hooking his claws together into two interlocking rings as he thought for a moment, the first silence he’d allowed since entering. 

Rung gave Whirl a moment, scooting forward to sit on the edge of his seat, hoping that Whirl might perceive it as a stance for listening.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Whirl, I’m curious…. You’ve mentioned this a few times before and I’ve made a point of not saying much on the subject, but if not for yourself, if not for the mechs you… don’t really consider friends, why are you still here? What helps you hold on?”

“Doc, I’m _so_ glad you asked.” Whirl playfully crossed his legs, resting his helm in an open claw as though the conversation was far more casual. “It’s spite!”

“...spite.” Rung repeated, confused but somehow unsurprised.

“Well naturally.” Whirl reversed his legs. “I’ve seen some _slag_ Rung, and when you’ve seen slag you’ve done slag, and people have done slag to you-” At this, he gestured to his helm. “-and you have to think about what to do. I didn’t start out the handsome mech you see before you today, and I’ll be smelted down into sheet metal before I forget who I was.

“I was _good_ at things, Rung. I was a good flier, I was a good watchmaker, and I was a damn good officer for the Senate. Sure, I did some… questionable things during that time, but I did as I was told, and I was _good_ at it. And you know what it got me, Rung? It got me sent to Garrus-1 because I’m the sort of mech who just gets to be made an example of at every turn. 

“I couldn’t be an instructor, I couldn’t be a protoform-breaker, I couldn’t a Wrecker, I was constantly told what I _couldn’t_ be, Rung. So I continue to do and _be_ things because there are mechs who think I can’t and won’t. The Primes, _Pax_ , The Senate, the cops, the crew, _everyone_ thinks there are things mechs shouldn’t be. And let’s be honest, Rung-”

Whirl took Rung’s leaning forward as an opportunity, tightly grasping his round shoulders between two firm, forceful claws. 

“Most mechs think I shouldn’t be alive.”

“Do you think you shouldn’t be alive?”

“Well, I sure wish I _wasn’t_ , Rung. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not going to give my enemies the pleasure of knowing that i committed suicide, but I sure don’t enjoy being around here much. Not friends, no sparkmate, there’s no _reason_ for me to be here Rung. Primus be damned, the only reason I’m here at all is because Ratchet insisted on treating me. Again.”

Rung could only listen. There was no combination of words that he knew that could bring any real form of comfort to Whirl.

“No one wants me here either, don’t think I don’t know. I remember when they all dressed like me at Swerve’s, I hear the whispers- scrap, I hear the _shouts_. No one’s ever wanted me around, no one wants to give me the chance again, and I know why.”

“...why?”

“Because I’m _good_ at things Rung. And when you’re good at things, mechs put up with you. They put up with you so they can get you to do the things you’re good at for them, and then act like they didn’t know you were _so good at that thing!_ What an amazing coincidence that you’re good at that thing! Breaking bones, mixing drinks, picking locks, building clocks, gathering intel - it doesn’t matter what it is, Rung, but as long as you’re good at something, they’ll want you around. Look at Swerve, poor lil guy, he tries his best and makes a damn good drink, but I can’t name five mechs that _like_ him. But he’s good at things, now isn’t he? So everyone puts up with his unbearable friendliness and his genuine how-are-yous because they just want a nicely blended enjex.

“And you know what? I _love_ a nicely blended enjex. I don’t know where I’d be without them! You know who I can always depend on? Enjex. Sure, she costs a few shanix and I have to _go_ to Swerve’s to get some, but I can always count on it being there. That’s more than I can say for most mechs. Though I can’t say much of anything nice about most mechs. Slag, if I wasn’t spending so much time at Swerve’s, and I didn’t have so many enemies left to smite, I might have offlined myself _centuries_ ago.”

Whirl almost regretted the statement when he saw the look on Rung’s face. Those _stupid_ sympathetic eyebrows, gently slanted and expressing more concern for Whirl than he’d ever truthfully known from another mech. Rung didn’t even have to say anything to make Whirl feel bad, and Whirl didn’t know another mech capable of such a feet. 

“Whirl…” Rung might have been looking right at Whirl, but he knew that look. He’d been to too many sessions with the small orange mech not to notice. He was looking through him - Rung was desperately searching for the right thing to say to his patient. 

There wasn’t anything Rung could say to make things better. 

“You know what makes it all worse?” Why stop now? He was on a roll. “They could all be okay if they just _listened_ once an a while. I mean you listen, but you have to now don’t you?”

“No, I-”

“Exactly! And you get it, you invisible little runt. Has anyone ever called you ‘Runt’ by mistake? But you _get_ it. Sure, my ideas aren’t _great_ and my advice is usually to kill or stab your problems until they go away, but if someone listened, maybe it would actually fix things!”

“...it wouldn’t fix anything.” Whirl admitted quickly. “People might _hear_ but they don’t listen. No one but you, Rung. That’s a good example, people not listening and you. Nearly half the mechs on board come to you for treatment but less than half of them even remember your name.”

“ _Whirl_!”

Whirl flickered his optic playfully. “Yes, Rung~?”

“...I’m worried about you.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m worried about you, Whirl.” Rung took off his glasses, optics shockingly leaking cleansing fluids. “Whirl, I consider you my friend, I want to help you, and I’m… I’m not sure what to do.”

Whirl couldn’t find it to say anything, not even something self-deprecating or rude, not a damn thing passed through his vocalizer. In his time, Whirl had been perfectly fine with hurting mechs and making them worry and generally destroying their lives. Rung… Rung had never, not once, done a single thing that merited having Whirl in his life. 

“I-I _want_ to help you, Whirl.” Rung reset his own vocalizer after hearing the static in his voice. “I want to help you. I don’t know how. I-I don’t feel it’s fair how the other bots on this ship treat you, not even a little, but I couldn’t possibly change them. I could try to talk to them but you’re right, people don’t hear me, and we’ve all done things wrong in our lives Whirl, but you don’t deserve this!”

“I… I what?”

“I said, you don’t deserve this.”

“Doc,” Whirl reached out, placing a claw against the side of Rung’s helm to encourage him to look up, even with cleansing fluid blurring his vision. “That’s the nicest damn thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“It shouldn’t be!” Rung protested, gently clasping Whirl’s claw between his hands. “We’ve all made mistakes, but life has thrown nothing at you but tragedy and you get the _slag_ back up and you’ve made good out of what people have done to you.”

“ _Swearing_ , Doc?”

“And-And I don’t understand, for a single moment, how anyone could possibly forget that you’re a person, that you _feel_ , as if they haven’t seen you act with kindness. You might be a bit unpolished, but… but you’re not cruel, Whirl.”

“Well, I nearly had a conjux and _they_ said their favorite quality about me was my capacity for cruelty.”

“Whirl, please. I-I know you’re used to people hurting you… but… I don’t want to hurt you, Whirl. Not even by accident. I don’t want anything for you but good things. I want to see you heal, I want to see you happy.” 

The small orange servos around his claw tightened. Whirl’s processor struggled to come up with something to respond to that with. Rung was always so genuine, it _hurt_. Rung saying he didn’t want to hurt him meant that Rung… didn’t want to hurt him? How was he supposed to respond to that? 

He said the only thing he could think to say.

For once, it was genuine.

“Thanks.”


End file.
